


Talk Dirty To Me

by fuzipenguin



Series: Sideswipe Watches Too Much Porn [7]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dialogue Heavy, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sideswipe's sleazy sex talk, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Twincest, phone sex kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2409542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet just wants to get the inventory count done. The Twins want Ratchet to leave his shift early for sexyfuntimes. Compromise ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Dirty To Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracoqueen22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/gifts).



> Written for dracoqueen22 as a fic exchange with the prompt of 'phone sex'

                Ratchet placed the box of actuator bolts back on the shelf and then crossed off the corresponding line on his inventory list. He was reaching for the next item on the shelf when his comm. line squawked a permission to connect.

                Pausing with his hand still held in mid-air, he checked his chronometer and frowned before accepting the request.

                **What?** He snapped, completing his reach and opening up the container of tempered screws to slowly count them out, one by one.

                **Well, good afternoon to you too, lover,** Sideswipe greeted him. **When are you coming home?**

 **Mid-shift doesn’t end for another four breems; you know that,** Ratchet returned.

                **Awww… but we _miss_ you. ** As if the mere words would be enough cause for Ratchet to drop everything and immediately rush to the twins’ sides.

                **I’m not shirking my duty just because you can’t wait four whole breems, Sides,** Ratchet replied, shaking his head. Impatience, thy name is Sideswipe.

                **Well, I guess we’ll just have to start without you!** Sideswipe haughtily replied.

                Ratchet rolled his optics, finishing his count and moving on to the next inventory item. **Go right ahead; you don’t need my permission.**

                There was a pause before Sideswipe responded. Just before he did, Ratchet heard a distinctive ‘snickt’ sound that signaled a switch from an internal to external communication input on Sideswipe’s end.

                “Well, we might not need your permission… but maybe _you_ could use a little incentive to leave on time.”

                Now Sideswipe sounded as if he was only centimeters away, the rich tones of his vocalizer able to convey more nuances than if he had continued on the internal line. As such, there was no way Ratchet could miss the deviousness of Sideswipe’s voice… or the soft, exhaled moan that coincided with Sideswipe’s last words.  

 **What are you two up to?**  Ratchet asked guardedly. He frowned down at his list as he realized he had skipped the count for the rotor heads. Huffing irritably, he took a step to the left and surveyed the shelf he thought he had been finished with.

                “Us? Well… I gotta admit, Ratch. We ‘started things’ a little bit ago… to take our minds off your absence, you see.”

 **Uh huh,** Ratchet replied dryly. **Has _nothing_ to do with the fact that you two have the sex drives of an Earth bunny, right?  **

                A fact Ratchet had learned quite quickly after he had begun spending more and more time with the twins. They had stamina to spare and interfacing protocols that never really turned off… just simmered beneath the surface. As such, when Ratchet was covered with fluids and barely able to lift his head off the berth, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would reach for one another and keep right on going.

                Ratchet had a sneaking suspicion that Sideswipe would chase after overloads until he offlined, but duty shifts, battles, and Sunstreaker were usually the limiting factors. There was only so long Sunstreaker could be distracted from the dents and smears of fluids resulting from an enthusiastic interface. Sideswipe was a tempting such distraction, but eventually even Sunstreaker pushed him away in favor of the washracks.

                Sideswipe laughed, the sound rolling pleasantly through Ratchet’s processor. “Maybe a little. You sure you don’t want to leave early and watch us fuck like animals?”

                Ratchet couldn’t suppress the shiver that crawled up his back strut at Sideswipe’s words. The crimson mech had adopted American idioms with an eagerness rivaled only by Jazz’s interest in the humans’ music. Sideswipe loved the curse words the most, adding them to his already incredibly large bank of slang and swears from hundreds of other languages across the galaxies.

                He didn’t know how Sideswipe did it, but in situations like this, he always managed to imbue each vulgarity with the very essence of wickedness.

                **As appealing as that may be…** and Ratchet had to admit, the idea _was_ a little tempting, **… you’ll see me as soon as my shift ends. Pending an emergency, of course.**

                Ratchet had nearly closed out the communications line when another moan traveled over it. The sound was frustrated and needy, shooting directly from Ratchet’s audials to his interface array and warming it just a fraction.

                Curiosity warred with the act of giving Sideswipe exactly what he wanted: attention. The battle was brief; that moan had to have been from Sunstreaker, and Ratchet had never heard the golden twin sound so desperate before.

                **What exactly are you doing?** Ratchet asked, trying and probably failing, for nonchalance.

                “Me?” Sideswipe inquired, innocence practically dripping from the drawled out word. “Oh, not much, really.”

                “Sides, you fragger, stop teas…ah!” Sunstreaker’s voice spiraled up from a growling bass to a shaky cry. A jar full of circuit boards nearly hit the floor as Ratchet’s grip suddenly loosened in surprise. He quickly replaced the jar back into his proper slot with an annoyed shake of his head.

                “You know, Sunny doesn’t have me tie him up often,” Sideswipe said, almost as an afterthought. “It’s really a shame you’re not here to see it. He’s so… _delicious_ … spread out like this, powerless against anything I want to do to him.

                “And I _never_ … run out of ideas,” Sideswipe murmured amidst several scrapes of metal. “Do I, Sunbeam?”

                Ratchet barely heard Sunstreaker’s snarled reply as the implications of Sideswipe’s words sunk in.

                Sunstreaker tied down? Helpless? The thought of it made Ratchet’s ventilations catch. He could picture it: the golden twin sprawled atop their berth, optics glaring balefully even as he arched his back in pleasure. With a shudder, Ratchet shook himself and bent his head back to his data pad.

                Sideswipe doled out temptation as if he were Unicron himself; Ratchet had successfully resisted before and this was no different. Four breems wasn’t that long, and it was more like three and three quarter breems now anyway. Sunstreaker would still be bound in the twins’ quarters once Ratchet finished here.

                **What… what are you using? To hold him? Sunstreaker’s pretty strong,** Ratchet commented.

                He was asking out of sheer curiosity, that’s all. Long vorns of experience had taught him that there wasn’t much that could keep either of the twins down for long, not unless heavy sedatives were involved.

                “That he is,” Sideswipe replied, nearly crooning the words. “My handsome, powerful brother… But stasis cuffs certainly do drain a lot of one’s strength, don’t they?”

                **Stasis cuffs?** Ratchet asked, growling subvocally as he lost count of how many spark plugs were in their bin. **Where did you get those?**

Then again, did he really want to know?

“What Red Alert doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Sideswipe said, sing-song. “He’s got _five dozens_ of the things locked in storage… kinky bastard. I doubt he’ll miss four measly cuffs.”

                **Four?**

“Well, yeah,” Sideswipe said, sounding matter of fact. “One for each foot, one for each wrist. Can’t cuff his wrists together; he… oh, _yes_ , that’s it, Sunny…  he can get out of that.”

                “Ff… _frag_ , Sideswipe… come _on_ ,” Sunstreaker whined. “When I get out of these cuffs, I’m gonna…” Sunstreaker’s snarled warning cut off with a gasp.

                “Oh, I look forward to it. But that’s a long time coming, baby. It’s my turn now,” Sideswipe purred.

                Ratchet snorted out loud, despite the rising curl of lust deep in his lower abdomen. **You sound like a sleazy pornovid star.**

“Well, my little ball of sunshine here sure ain’t complainin’,” Sideswipe murmured amidst a soft chirr of metal and the revving of Sunstreaker’s engine.

                “You wanna guess what I’m doing to him right now?” the red twin added, sounding utterly pleased with himself.

                Yes. Yes, he absolutely did.

                **No. I’m busy,** Ratchet retorted brusquely.

                “Hmmm. Well, then end our connection, Ratchet. Go back to your counting. Unless you want to listen for a _little_ bit longer?” Sideswipe slyly asked.

                Ratchet scowled at the wall. Shift change would occur in a little over three breems. There was no reason to distract himself by listening to the twins frag one another. It wasn’t like they were suddenly going to vow celibacy after this. But Sideswipe had also said Sunstreaker didn’t let himself be tied down all that often either…

                Delighted laughter floated over the comm. link as Ratchet hesitated. “You don’t have to say anything, Ratch. Just listen.

                “Right now, I’ve got one of our toys buried so deep in Sunny that I can barely see the end of it. It’s vibrating, but on that low level… you know, the one that is more frustrating than anything else? His valve just keeps _clenching_ , squeezing out little trickles of lubricant around it. I’m sure he hates me right about now; I put it in nearly a joor ago!”

                Ratchet reached out and clutched the nearest shelf edge, staring sightlessly at the storage room door and reeling a little as Sideswipe’s words painted a pretty picture. Beneath red plating, his valve throbbed in sympathy.

                **So… ah, so you… you’ve been going for a while now,** Ratchet managed.

                Sideswipe laughed again. “Since end of first shift. Sunny got back first and when I came in off patrol he grabbed me and screwed me into the nearest wall. Dust and dirt and everything. He’s in a mood today, Ratch; he’s giving me a run for my money.”

                **Oh,** Ratchet replied lamely, his imagination easily creating images to go along with Sideswipe’s words . Ratchet himself had been in the same position on more than one occasion, held aloft by strong hands under his thighs and helm knocking against the wall on every thrust. His valve warmed in remembrance.

                “Yeah, ‘oh’. I’m dribbling a little myself, to be honest,” Sideswipe murmured, his vocalizer fritzing just slightly.

                “Mmmm… _yeah_ ,” he sighed, softly moaning. “Yup. I got my fingers in me, and I am _definitely_ still tingling. Might even be sore tomorrow. Actually, I _know_ I’m gonna be sore, especially after I climb onto Sunstreaker’s spike and ride him like there _is_ no tomorrow.”

                “Primus!” Ratchet gasped, his knees going a little weak. The data pad in his hand gave a warning creak as his clutched the screen too tightly. The shameless little pit-spawns were going to be the end of him one day, he just knew it.

                “How’s that taste, baby?” Sideswipe crooned. “Suck those fingers, I want them squeaky clean.”

                In the background, Ratchet heard a quiet, wet sound. He could picture Sunstreaker’s beautiful lips working around Sideswipe’s coal-black finger tips, glossa delving into each joint. The medic felt a sudden pang of jealousy; the twins had brought him to overload on more than one occasion by focusing entirely on his over sensitive hands and fingers.

                He allowed himself to lean against one of the shelving units, hand slipping between his thighs to press against his aching interface panel.

                Sideswipe made a pleased hum. “That’s _very_ good, bro. Thank you.”

                The words could have been taken as condescending, but Sideswipe’s tone was full of warm praise. Ratchet wondered if there was more to this scenario than just the bondage. Sunstreaker was prone to physically dominating both Sideswipe and Ratchet in the berth, although Sideswipe was often the one verbally directing all three of them. To see, or rather hear, Sunstreaker take on a more submissive role was certainly new.

                “Tastes good,” Sunstreaker said, his normally smooth voice burred with static.

                “I know I do. Ratch, what do you think? Think I should give something else a ride? Like Sunny’s mouth?”

                The end of him. Ratchet just knew it.

                **Do what you want,** he said. And miraculously , it even managed to sound nonchalant. Thank Primus _he_ wasn’t on external comm. There was no way he would have been able to hide how aroused he was.

                “Oh, I want. I want _everything_ ,” Sideswipe replied. Ratchet had no doubt the crimson twin’s expression was that of a hungry smirk.   

                “All right then. Let me give you a little incentive to do a good job, Sunny Boy,” Sideswipe said. Ratchet briefly heard a muted buzzing sound flare in volume and then fade away. “That setting a little more to your liking?”

                Sunstreaker gave a strangled groan in reply, and Ratchet jumped as the noise sounded only inches away. Ratchet guessed that Sideswipe had leaned over to increase the speed of the vibrator in Sunstreaker’s valve and then peered into his brother’s face to observe the results.

                “Now, don’t overload before I tell you. And not before you get me off good,” Sideswipe instructed. There was a series of metallic scrapes and a barely vocalized grumble of Sideswipe complaining about needing a bigger berth. Then there was several moments of silence, and Ratchet strained to hear something other than the quiet hum of their cooling fans.

                “There we go,” Sideswipe murmured. “Get to work, Sunbeam, and I might… oh fuck!”

                Ratchet startled at the whip-crack expletive, desperately wishing he could _see_. By now, his inventory data pad was deserted on one of the shelves, his free hand slowly stroking his interface panel over and over. His optics stared sightlessly at the wall, his gaze unconsciously fixed in the direction of the twins’ room.

                “Damn,” Sideswipe murmured on a shaky exvent. “Oh, Ratch… feels… feels so good. Think I got him… all frustrated…Primus, _yes_! … he is going to _town_ …”

                Ratchet broke. **Tell me what Sunstreaker’s doing,** he commanded as his interface cover snapped aside. **Describe it to me.**

“Mmm… knew we’d getcha eventually,” Sideswipe purred, smug.

                **Whatever, just _tell_ me! **Ratchet already had a good idea, but he wanted to hear Sideswipe say it in that delightfully uninhibited voice of his.

“He’s licking me, sucking… ah!... ss…sucking at my valve’s edges…” Sideswipe broke off with a groan. “Ah, Primus… _Sunny_ …”

                “Curl your glossa up under the anterior rim, Sunstreaker. He loves that; it’s where his most sensitive nodes are.”

                A sparkbeat of surprised silence followed Ratchet’s sudden outburst on external comms, and he froze, cringing. He was only a smidgeon disappointed with himself, however; better mechs than he would surely have caved as well. Nevertheless, Ratchet immediately switched back to the internal comm. link, hopefully before Sideswipe could hear Ratchet’s ragged ventilations.

                Sideswipe’s amused laugh tickled Ratchet’s audials, gaining strength and gearing up into a full guffaw before suddenly breaking off with a gasp.

                “Don’t need you to tell me that,” Sunstreaker petulantly muttered, muffled and nearly inaudible.

                “Ohhh… looks like you got some competition, Sunbeam. Ratch’s starting to know all my hot spots,” Sideswipe commented, vocalizer fritzing on every other word. “Ah!”

                **So Sunstreaker’s tied down, and you’re straddling his face. Where are your hands?**   Ratchet said, wondering what had made Sideswipe yelp like that.

                “Well, one of them is now wrapped around Sunstreaker’s throat since he just _bit_ me,” Sideswipe answered, indignantly. “The other…

                “You know…” he trailed off thoughtfully. “I might tell you… _if_ you tell me where _your_ hands are.”

                **They’re at the end of my arms** , Ratchet shot back. He smirked at the wall, gently stroking the very edges of his aching valve; spend enough time with Sideswipe and one learned to manipulate words almost as well as he.

                “Ha! Nice,” Sideswipe said approvingly. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. My other hand is on my spike. Just holding it… squeezing every now and then. I’m trying to decide what I wanna do next.”

                The red twin exvented loudly, and very dramatically. “What am I going to do with you, Sunshine? I try to give you nice things, and you just ruin them.”

                “Never said… no biting…” Sunstreaker grated out, vocalizer obviously straining from more than just arousal. Ratchet frowned. Sideswipe had said he had his hand around his brother’s neck; Ratchet had assumed that Sideswipe had been playing. He wasn’t actually hurting Sunstreaker, was he?

                Sideswipe hummed a little before replying. “True, that. But I don’t know if I can trust you now with the delicate bits of my anatomy. You might have lost that privilege for good.”

                “Sideswipe!” Sunstreaker protested before grunting painfully. Ratchet heard several hollow thumps and then Sideswipe softly tsking.

                “Uh uh uh! Let’s play with the vibrator a bit, shall we?”

                Ratchet strained his audials and was rewarded with several slick noises, sounds that resonated deep within Ratchet’s processor and made his own engine purr.

                “Mmm, you sure are wet, bro. How’s that feel?” Sideswipe murmured, prompting Ratchet to subconsciously swipe his glossa over his lower lip. “You like these shallow strokes… or the deeper ones?”

                 Sunstreaker’s only answer was a low groan.

                 “You arch so nicely when I shove it in deep,” Sideswipe remarked idly. “Bet that feels so good, doesn’t it, baby? Want me to keep going? Think you deserve it?”

                 “S…sslag off and die!”

                 “Awww, why you gotta go and be mean? Now I’m gonna stop. And let’s slow this baby back down since you can’t keep a civil glossa…

                 “Guess you’ll just have to watch…  watch me slide my fingers into myself… two for now… mmm, _yeah_ … I could probably do more… you got me all nicely stretched earlier… buuuut… I think it’s time for Ratchet to catch up. What do you say, Ratch?”

                 At the direct address, Ratchet froze, optics guiltily wide despite the fact that the twins were halfway across the ship.

                 “You still with us, lover?” Sideswipe purred.

                 Ratchet cleared his vocalizer and guiltily straightened from his slump against the shelves despite the absence of anyone else in the room. **Uh… yeah… yes, I’m still listening.**

                 There’s a long pause, definitely not filled with silence as Sunstreaker muttered a string of slurred curses. Then Sideswipe spoke again.

                 “ _Yeah_ , you’re listening!” he said, sounding delighted. “You still working on supplies? I doubt it. What do you think, Sunny? I bet he’s got two of those cherry-red fingers buried knuckle deep in his valve.   _Primus_ , that’s hot!”

 **I’m not…** Ratchet rushed to protest, surreptitiously whipping his hand away from the juncture of his thighs. His index and middle fingers glistened in the dim light of the storage room.

                 “Don’t you dare stop!” Sideswipe growled playfully.

 **No, I really wasn’t doing anything** , Ratchet protested, snatching a cloth out of subspace and hurriedly wiping the lubricant off his fingers. **I’m just listening while counting inventory.**

                 Nevertheless, he didn’t close his interface panel. His spike was too engorged to do so; at least that’s what he told himself.

                 Sideswipe scoffed. “Uh huh. Sure. Well, you just continue to ‘count inventory’ while I give myself a processor-blowing overload. And you… “

                 A series of dull chimes rang out, briefly overcoming the toy’s vibrations. Ratchet suspected that Sideswipe was patting Sunstreaker on the cheek.

                 “Open your optics, Sunstreaker. I want you to see what you’re missing. And if you overload, I’m gonna dial down that vibrator even more and leave you here until your next shift,” Sideswipe sternly warned. “Understand?”

                 Ratchet waited for Sunstreaker’s reply but heard nothing except the steady whirl of their cooling fans.

                 “Sunny. Sunstreaker? Use your words, bro,” Sideswipe softly urged.

                 “Yes!” the golden twin finally hissed. “I get it!”

                 “Alrighty then. And if you’re good, if you hold out… I’ll ride you like I said earlier, yeah?”

                 Sunstreaker’s engine suddenly revved, loud and throbbing. “Promise?”

                 Ratchet blinked in surprise at the eager, sparkling-like tone Sunstreaker had used.

                 “I swear on our spark. Now… hope you’re listening Ratch, cuz I’m going full on descripto-mode for you.

                 “I’m kneeling over Sunny’s chest. Nowhere near his mouth, oh no… learned my lesson on that one. Next time I’ll be much more… _explicit_ … with my instructions. But anyway, he can see. Oh, he has a perfect view of my fingers sliding in and out of me. Best seat in the house, really.

                 “I’m making a mess of his polish though, I’ll tell you that. I’m dripping everywhere, so wet that I can barely feel these two fingers. What do you think? Should I go up to three?”

                 Ratchet ached to answer, to urge the red twin to add a third finger, Pit, to even add a fourth! But he refused out of sheer principle, hands clamped down tightly on the edge of the nearest shelf. He couldn’t do anything to stop his thighs from restlessly rubbing together, however.

                 “… silence from Ratchet. He’s holding out on us, Sunny, but he’ll cave soon. What do you think, bro? One more?”

                 “Fuck you!” Sunstreaker spat.

                 Sideswipe snickered. “Thought that’s what I was doing. You know, next time, I’m going to see if you can last the whole time without cursing at me. I’d love to see you manage that one. Course, you like the rewards I give you, so you might end up surprising me.

                 “Anyway. Three it is!”

                 A slick squelching noise preceded Sideswipe’s pleased moan. “Ahhh… that’s more like it. _Primus_ … that’s good. Sure is a shame that you won’t join me, Ratch. I can just picture those fingers of yours… mmm! That ruby red just disappearing in and out of your hot, little valve… the tips stroking over your superficial sensors. I know how much you like it  when I finger you… mine are just long enough to get those deep nodes… the ones that drive you… uhhh, _yes_ … crazy.”

                 Ratchet’s hips bucked forward of their own volition as Sideswipe’s cooling fans screamed up to their top speed. A trickle of lubricant overflowed the edge of Ratchet’s still bared valve and spilled down his inner thigh. One hand loosened its death grip on the shelf, dropping to Ratchet’s waist before he could stop himself. The overhead light glinted off the crimson plating of his hands, and Ratchet yanked his arm back up, cursing himself.

                He may not be able to close the open communication line, but Pit if he was going to give in to his own body’s urges. He was still on duty, and someone in this relationship had to have some restraint.

                 Meanwhile, Sideswipe was ventilating heavily, soft moans escaping him as his fingers noisily worked his valve.

                “… _so good_. Gonna ride you, Sunny, after. Gonna slide down and just drop onto your spike. _Fuck_ … it’s gonna be so good…” Sideswipe murmured in a rushed babble.

                “Not yet... not yet though. You were _bad_.  Have to… have to earn it. Wanna to see more? How… how about another?

                “Ohhhh… Pit, _yeah_ … four… four fingers, Ratch. Are you… are you listening…?”

                Oh, he was. With every ounce of his being. He was so focused on the delicious sounds on the other end of the communication line that he felt halfway to overload himself. His valve throbbed in time with his rapid sparkbeat, more and move lubricant trickling down his legs while his spike gently bobbed in the cool storeroom air.

                “… yeah, I’m watching,” Sunstreaker rasped, answering a question from Sideswipe that Ratchet had missed.

                “You could have… coulda had this. Coulda made me overload,” Sideswipe gasped, static blurring his words. Ratchet heard the motion of Sideswipe’s arm speed up, the gentle chime of his hand impacting against his array with every thrust of his fingers. The medic guessed it would be over soon and slammed his optics shut to better listen.

                 Sunstreaker moaned suddenly, a needy, desperate whine. “Come ‘ere… Sides… I’ll be good… I promise. Please… let me taste you… let me make you feel good…”

                 Ratchet moaned out loud, his helm dropping to rest against his forearm. He had never… not once… _ever_ heard Sunstreaker beg like he was now. Valve calipers spiraling down on nothing, Ratchet swayed in place, processor muddled with borrowed pleasure.

                 “… I want it, _need_ it… Sides… _please_ …”

                 Sideswipe cried out wordlessly and then choked out a mangled version of Sunstreaker’s name. “Nnn… no… biting…”

                 “No biting, promise, please…” Sunstreaker replied in a rush. A second later, Ratchet heard a scrape of metal, followed by a spiraling cry torn out of Sideswipe’s vocalizer.

                 “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Sideswipe chanted shakily. “That’s it, just like that… such a _good_ boy…”

                 A pleased, muffled hum just barely reached Ratchet’s audials and he shuddered, a drop of pre-transfluid leaking out from the tip of his spike.

                 “Oh… I’m gonna…” Sideswipe gasped and then abruptly fell silent. Seconds later, Sideswipe let out a guttural moan as he presumably reached completion. Ratchet let out a gust of air that he had been holding, slumping even further against the shelves.

                 “Sunny…” Sideswipe slurred.

                 The red twin’s ventilations are harsh and dragging, his cooling fans at max speeds. Ratchet almost missed the creak of joints unlocking and the drag of a body across another.

                 “… you didn’t… overload. Want your… reward… now? For making me feel so good?” Sideswipe panted.

                 “Yessss…” Sunstreaker groaned, sounding pained. “Want it… want _you_ …”

                 “Still listening, Ratch?” Sideswipe questioned. “Still counting inventory?”

 **You know damn well I stopped counting… two and a half breems ago,** Ratchet said after checking his chronometer.

                 Sideswipe let out a weak chuckle. “Oh, I know. What I don’t know is what ever happened to those pretty little fingers of yours. Were you good?

                 “Or were you very… _very_ … bad,” he murmured seductively. “Cuz if you were holding out for the finale, well, you’re in for a ride. Ha! Just like me!”

 **I haven’t touched myself,** Ratchet replied honestly.

                 “Let me hear you say it.”

                  Scowling, Ratchet did his best to ignore his full frame tremors of lust at Sideswipe’s commanding tone.

                 “I haven’t touched myself,” he repeated to the wall, “not since the first time, anyway.”

                 Sunstreaker whined impatiently, the noise of metal rattling echoing in Ratchet’s audials.

                 “Huh,” Sideswipe said absently. “Guess we’ll just have to try a little harder then, won’t we, brother? You up for this?”

                 Sideswipe chuckled darkly as Ratchet heard bodies shifting on the berth. “I rather think you are. His spike is hard as a rock, Ratch. I don’t know if he’s going to make it all the way through this. Might have to give you a little assistance, Sunny.”

                 Ratchet heard a rustle and then Sunstreaker began protesting. “No, Sides, come on. I don’t need it, don’t, please!”

                 There was a barely audible click heard over the rumbling of the twins’ engines, and Ratchet wondered what Sideswipe had done. He didn’t have to wonder long as Sideswipe continued his running commentary.

                 “That was a spike ring. I don’t quite trust Sunny as charged up as he is right now. And I still haven’t quite forgiven you over your little ‘love nip’ earlier.”

                 “I hate it,” Sunstreaker resentfully grumbled, sounding more resigned than anything.

                 “Oh, I know, baby. But it’s worth it in the end, isn’t it? That charge just keeps building and building and when I let you go… you’re going to be feeling it for _days_. You have Ratchet to thank for that little tip. Speak of the Destroyer… how you holding up over there, Ratchet? Only one more breem left. Still think you’ll be getting out on time?”

                 Ratchet took in a deep ventilation and held it, systems calming somewhat now that the twins weren’t actively interfacing. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t aching with need however.

 **It’s likely,** Ratchet responded, doing his best to not sound too eager.

                  Sideswipe snorted. “I’ll keep him warm for ya, Ratch. Sunny’s getting awfully tired of this vibrator; I’m sure he’d love the real thing.”

                  Annnnd there went the lust flaring hot deep in his abdomen again.

                  Almost as if reading his processor, Sideswipe laughed. “Just one more breem, Ratchet. And trust me, we’ll keep you entertained until you get off. Heh. Off shift that is.”

                  Ratchet growled at Sideswipe’s cheekiness, reminding himself once more that he only had himself to blame for ever saying yes to the twins.

                  “Alright, Sunny Boy. Let me get myself settled… ohhhh… _frag_ yeah…” Sideswipe sighed in obvious pleasure. “You feel _so_ much better than my fingers. So much deeper… ah!”

                  Ratchet groaned again as the twins’ berth began rhythmically creaking, little grunts of effort falling from between Sideswipe’s lips. Ratchet recalled one of the many times Sideswipe had teased Ratchet’s spike with mouth and hands and then sheathed himself, shamelessly riding Ratchet until they had both explosively overloaded. Sideswipe’s hips could do things Ratchet was positive was illegal in several galaxies.

                  And judging by the high pitched cry Sunstreaker had just made, the crimson twin was utilizing some of those same moves that had turned Ratchet’s processor into mush.

                  “Mmmmm… you should let me be on top more often,” Sideswipe panted. “I love this, using your spike how I want.”

                  “You love every position,” Sunstreaker retorted, croaking out the words. His engine revved excitedly, cooling fans whining a protest at their extended use.

                  Sideswipe chuckled. “Yeah. True. Hey… how about… you… why don’t you take over nar… narrating, while I take care of… of you?”

                  “Wha…? Where… oh, _Pit_ ,” Sunstreaker swore, sounding absolutely broken.

                  “What? What did he do?” Ratchet demanded, speaking loudly to ensure Sunstreaker could hear him. They knew that he was avidly listening by now; there was no point in hiding the audible evidence of his arousal any longer.

                  The golden twin bit back a groan. “Turned around… damnit… fragger knows…”

                  “Knows what, Sunny?” Ratchet confusedly asked after Sunstreaker trailed off.

                  “How good my aft looks like this,” Sideswipe replied in a rush. “’My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,’” he added with a wheezy giggle.  

                  Ratchet’s spike twitched, almost painfully; Sideswipe knew how to make a show of things, how to move and pose so that the light struck his curves just right. Ratchet had no doubt that the little hellion was bouncing his aft more attractively than the most experienced pornovid star.

                  “Talk to him, Sunny,” Sideswipe urged. “How do I feel?”

                  “Hot. Burning,” Sunstreaker immediately said. “Ss… slick. Uhhh… Sides!”

                  The background noise of the vibrator suddenly kicked up several notches, turning into a horde of angry Earth bees.

                  “… can’t!” Sunstreaker managed to get out, sounding truly strangled this time.

                  “Oh, yes you can. Who’s my big, strong mech who can take anything?” Sideswipe crooned. “It’s just a little vibrator… well, actually, it’s not so little… it’s rather thick… sliding in deep and vibrating so… so nicely… I can feel it all the way through your spike… mmmm… _love_ your spike… so big… so hard…”

                  Sideswipe trailed off with a shaky cry, Ratchet’s valve producing another gush of lubricant. At this rate, he wasn’t going to be able to walk out of the storage room much less the Medical Bay. Anyone who put one optic on him was going to know how aroused he was.

                  “That’s it! Yeah, baby, shove it… shove it in! Give it to me… make me overload…”

 **I _never_ tie down his hips** , Sideswipe remarked in an aside to Ratchet. **All I have to do is lift up a little…**

                  Sideswipe’s audible words quickly dissolved into soft cries of bliss, mixed in with Sunstreaker’s low, broken moans. Their berth squeaked out protests with every motion, the stasis cuffs rattling with each thrash of the twins’ bodies. Ratchet practically felt as if he were in the room, so immersed as he was in every slick noise their frames made.

                  His own frame vibrated with frustrated lust, thighs so drenched in his lubricants they slid together without a sound as he twisted in place. He was so close… he didn’t even think he would need to touch himself…  

                 “Ratchet? Ratchet, are you in there?”

                 A curious voice broke through Ratchet’s haze, and he threw himself at the door as it cracked open. “No!”

                 The door slammed back shut, the mech on the other side - First Aid, Ratchet dimly realized - stumbling back a step or two. Ratchet roughly grabbed the base of his spike and squeezed, doing his best to halt the rushing tide of overload.

                 “Is everything all right? You weren’t answering your comm. line… what… your vitals are all over the place. What’s wrong?”

                 Ratchet reflexively checked his communication queue.  An urgent call would have forced itself directly to his HUD, but a lick of unease traveled through his circuits as he realized he had been so distracted that he had missed three requests to connect.

                 “Fine!” Ratchet replied, cringing at how his vocalizer practically shrilled the word. “I’m fine… uh…” Ratchet frantically looked around the storeroom for a reason as to why he would still be in here with his sparkrate nearly tripled its norm.

                 “Twins laid a surprise for me… it’s a mess in here. I’m finishing cleaning up!”

                 There was a beat of silence before First Aid chuckled. “They never learn, do they… bet they’re going to get their own surprise once you leave here, huh?”

                 Oh, you have no idea, Ratchet thought.

                 “From the Bay to their room,” Ratchet replied. At the thought of what was waiting in that room, Ratchet’s hand traitorously moved on his spike, his hips pushing forward into the loosened grip.

                 “Well, let me know if you need any help. I’m just going to be in the office working on some files.”

                 “Alright!” Ratchet managed, hoping that his apprentice would mistake the static overpowering the word for anger, rather than something else.

                 At the sound of First Aid’s retreating steps, Ratchet allowed himself to slump against the door with a relieved ex-vent. His hips continued to move, thrusting into his grip more urgently now that Sideswipe’s cries were gaining in volume in Ratchet’s audials.

                 “Yeah! There, that’s… oh, oh, don’t stop, Sun…!”

                 Sideswipe let out a shriek that probably would have fritzed Ratchet’s audio receptors if he had actually been present in the room. The shrill cry dropped into drawn out moan as the berth continued to creak.

                 “Sides!” Sunstreaker pleaded.

                 Ratchet heard a loud thump and screech of metal, and Sunstreaker whined, the stasis cuffs rattling mightily.

                 “Oh, baby… that was great…” Sideswipe panted, the pleasure-blurred words seeming to shoot directly to Ratchet’s valve. He ducked his head against the forearm propped against the back of the door and sunk his denta into his lower lip.

                 “Don’t worry, Sunny, I got ya,” Ratchet heard amongst increasingly distressed whimpers. “Mouth or valve, bro?”

                 The snick of a latch releasing was nearly lost in the cacophony of Sunstreaker’s thrashing. “Mouth!” he shouted.

                  “As you wish,” Sideswipe murmured.

                 Ratchet panted into his arm, hot ventilations creating a moist pocket around his faceplates. He was so close… his lower extremities tingled, overload just nanoklicks from rushing over his entire body. He struggled against it, desperately wanting to hear Sunstreaker overload first.

**I can never decide which I like better… the feel of him shooting down my intake or deep inside my valve… both are so hot… gets me charged up all over again…**

                 Sideswipe whispered directly into Ratchet’s processor the same moment Sunstreaker gave a strained cry, abruptly going still. All other noise faded away but for the quiet sounds of suction.

                 Cursing Sideswipe’s name, Ratchet hurtled over the precipice of overload, denta clamping down on the plating covering his forearm in an attempt to muffle any sounds. Transfluid stripped the door in front of him as Sunstreaker finally howled out his release over the comm. line. Ratchet swayed in place, shaking with the force of the overload, and fighting to stay standing against the tide of lassitude.

                 “There… there you go. Gorgeous,” Sideswipe whispered reverently. Ratchet realized that Sideswipe had been speaking for several moments now, that static in Ratchet’s audials finally starting to fade. He blearily blinked his optic shutters, and cocked his helm to the side as if it would help him listen better.  

                 There was a soft burr of metal as Ratchet heard four more latches releasing. Sunstreaker whimpered softly, the sound muffled somewhat.

 **You’re untying him?** Ratchet asked, surprised. Sideswipe had indicated that they would still be going at it when Ratchet arrived after his shift ended.

**Yeah. Sorry. I know I said… most times Sunny just likes to let me have control, but sometimes… sometimes he needs me to make him work for it. To do something right and earn a reward for it.**

                 “Shhh… that’s my beautiful boy. You did so well… you made me feel so good…” Sideswipe continued to murmur. Sunstreaker said something questioning, too low for Ratchet to catch, but Sideswipe chuckled.

                 “Oh, I have no doubt that you made Ratchet feel good too… right, Ratch?”

                 Ratchet stared blankly at the door in front of him, his processor replaying the twins’ interactions with one another during their ‘session’. He had been right, earlier; this had more than just a little bondage play. He suddenly felt humbled that the twins, but especially Sunstreaker, had trusted him enough to include him.

                 “I’m currently staring at my own transfluid dripping down the inside of this storage room door… so yes… you made me feel good,” Ratchet replied dryly. He had no doubt that his rapid ventilations were still audible over their link.

                 “Nice! Take a picture, yeah?” Sideswipe suggested, making Ratchet snort and shake his head. In the background, Sunstreaker murmured something sleepily.

                 “Hmmm, you’re right. Sunny said it’s a half breem past shift change, and you’re still not here yet.”

 **You still want me to come?** Ratchet ventured hesitantly.

 **Over and over,** Sideswipe promptly replied, making Ratchet snort. **Heh. But seriously. Yeah. We _did_ miss you. It’s been over an orn since we really had a chance to spend some time with you. And Sunstreaker could use some cuddles from you, though he’ll never ask for them.**

                 Spark swelling a little, Ratchet nodded, even though no one was around to see it. **Let me clean up, and I’ll be right over.**

                 “Awesome. See ya soon.”

                 Their communication link finally closed out, leaving Ratchet’s helm ringing with the silence. He huffed a little as he stared at the mess on the door before glancing over his shoulder. He _still_ hadn’t finished the inventory count.

                 Ex-venting a deep sigh, he resigned himself to finishing it on his next shift. Checking in on Sunstreaker and reassuring his lover was a little more important.

                 But Ratchet also needed to sit down with the twins and discuss some boundaries; he was _not_ happy with how distracted he had become while technically still on duty. Part of it was practicing more self-control in resisting Sideswipe’s and Sunstreaker’s particular pull, but maybe if they didn’t try to _tempt_ him so frequently…

                 Shaking his head, Ratchet smiled slightly. Then again… would they be the Twins if they didn’t?

 

 ~ End


End file.
